My Big Brother England
by Ember Hinote
Summary: A child recalls their memories with their former empire of a brother. They then compare what the other countries see to what their view is and give their take on it. I'm dreadful at summaries so please just take a peek, it's probably better than how I'm wording it right now.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA, THEREFOR I DO NOT OWN ENGLAND OR ANY OF THE OTHER COUNTRIES FEATURED.**

**I do however own the character telling the story.**

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Big Brother, that's what I've always called him. England or Britain, rarely have I ever addressed him such a way. I could count on one hand how many times I've ever called him something besides Big Brother. Why should I call him anything less than what he is?

Big Brother has been all over the world while I'm at home, waiting, watching the ports for him. As a child, my eyes had been trained to the sea, almost begging it for a sign of his ship, Crimson Rose. He sent me letters time and time again, reciting grand tales of his adventures in such detail that it would feel as if I were standing right beside him all the way. _Seeing_ the amazing lands,_ tasting_ their exotic cuisine, _experiencing_ the dry deserts and humidity,_ braving_ battles against the "savages" as he calls them, and _meeting_ the people and nations that he's come across. Reading those letters made residing in our home much less lonely that it would have been without him. To this day, I've photocopied every single one of his letters to read in my office when he is gone while their originals are tucked away in an airtight chest, hidden away in my bedroom for safe keeping. I would be devastated if something were to happen to my prized possessions, those letters. Hmm, I guess that must be why Berlin is still so wary around me.

I recall the time Big Brother was a Pirate, or privateer so he insisted but we both knew better. Back then, I was too young and it was much too dangerous for me to go with him on his sailing expeditions, hence his letters. Big Brother would be gone for months on end sometimes and return with injuries that he has tried to conceal but often fails to do so. I remember Spain and Big Brother getting into fights a lot during those times as well, Madrid and I still can't see eye to eye even now. That chap sure can hold a grudge, I mean that was just _one_ time Big Brother let me go with him after much begging, and Madrid just happened to be accompanying Spain but what happened is another story.

His cooking is a mockery among the nations. I feel as I must remain hidden whenever they are over. Or if it is unavoidable and I must make an appearance, I disguise myself as a maid or a butler for I don't feel the need for them to see me. When Big Brother is not in the room, I hear them speaking of it, calling it _tasteless_, _charcoal like_, and _disgusting_. My blood boils upon hearing those words from their lips and it takes just about all my restraint to not put a gun to their heads and demand that they apologize and take back what they've said or to beat them, or if they're European, work my economical magic upon them. But I don't allow myself to harm them for my cover would be blown and Big Brother would be embarrassed. So I keep quiet until they've left before muttering my curses of them to their backs.

They don't know Big Brother; they don't know that he hides his ability. Big Brother has impeccable skills in the kitchen. I should know; I'm the only one who has ever remained with him with no desire to leave. What he serves them, they aren't his culinary skills. They're mine. My skills in the kitchen still need refining but I have a patient teacher. Big Brother says he's quite proud that I've been improving, that my cooking skills will soon come to par with my superior potion brewing ability. He's never said anything that's purpose was to hurt me, all he does is compliment what I can do and point out what I need to improve on. Someday I'll be as good as a chef as him but for now, I'll sit and watch as he carves beets and radishes into a garden, sculpt sugar into delicate butterflies, mold chocolate into majestic ships, bake cakes that melt in your mouth, sauté colorful vegetables, prepare a gorgeous roast, and stir up soups that will warm your very soul.

His magic is a joke among the other nations. His curses are said to call forth Russia and not the terrifying creatures that he intended for. They say that he's mad for seeing faeries and magical creatures. They just don't understand. Big Brother's magic is true and I've been the witness on multiple occasions. Sure his black cloak would frighten me to tears as a wee poppet but nowadays I find comfort in it when he is away. It still amazes me to see the magic circle aglow in the midst of his spells and it also still frightens me to see the creatures he is able to call forth. It is embarrassing that he still needs to calm me every time I see some of the truly terrible beasts of hell but he tells me that there is no shame in being afraid in what is truly terrifying. I'm pleased that he has yet to really use his magic in a war or battle yet. Though, I fear for those nations and battles of the future that could come to experience Big Brother's magic, if he really were use it, then we would be short one nation, including the land it was once on.

Big Brother's interests are also a laughing matter for the other countries sometimes. Big Brother has always been keen on embroidery, in fact, the Union Jack and English flags I keep in my room and office were embroidered by him. They are magnificent pieces that I admire on a daily basis. He's also a wonderful craftsman who can make these spectacular iron ships (there's a scale model of his Crimson Rose in the sitting room) as well stunning glassworks (displayed in a well let room in the house though I do have two of the pieces sitting on my home desk as well as my office desk). Though in my opinion, his best craft were the time pieces he's given me (specifically a platinum pocket watch in the shape of my favorite card suite, the Spade, with magical abilities that I've yet to completely unlock).

Though he might not look or act like it, Big Brother is a major movie buff and critic. He enjoys Dr. Who and has made it very clear to me as well as many others to not disturb him during his Dr. Who time (he still has his angry Pirate stare and it still frightens me to the point where I can't sleep at night). Whenever we go visit America (the land not the personification), he will literally drag me (sometimes half asleep or kicking and screaming) to every movie house within a 500 mile radius and see every movie shown there. The worst part is he won't even let me doze off even the slightest during the movie! I swear, when it comes to movies, Big Brother has limitless amounts of energy, showing no apparent signs of jet lag. I mean, I've been in RAF ever since it was established and fly planes for fun but even I still experience jet lag! But at those movies, he'll constantly give these scathing remarks on how the actors can improve and the lack of plot and so many other things that if I were to write it all down, the list would go from here to the moon and BACK! But even though those movie expeditions are major annoyances and time consuming, I still love him.

Literature must be one of my more willing past times with him. Big Brother has brought to just about every single one of his favorite book signings and readings. Because unlike the movies, he doesn't critic as often and when he does talk, it's actually something to my interest. I remember time when I was small and couldn't sleep, I'd go to his library (where he usually was), climb into his lap, and he'd read to me from Shakespeare's latest works before shooing me off to bed once more. Big Brother always read his favorites to me as a child and often would end story time at a cliff hanger leading me to pout and whine for him to continue but he would just laugh and ruffle my hair. Ah, such fond memories from those times.

His mother and brothers, he rarely speaks of them around me. I have met his brothers only a handful of times but even then, I found out why he would prefer not to speak of them. They are a rather unpleasant lot with the same to be said of Edinburgh, Cardiff, and Belfast. Though then again, Wales and Cardiff are the more tolerable ones. Sealand on the other hand, that boy annoys me to no end and he still sees me as his personal servant even though Big Brother has made it very clear on multiple occasions that I am most definitely not. But as for his mum, it takes a lot of pestering on my part to get him to talk. From what I understand, she was a lovely woman who cared for them until the day she died. He seems so happy whenever he speaks of his mum and a lot more at ease than he usually is. He'll just talk for hours on end about her and it disappoints me that sometimes I end up dozing off before he finishes.

His colonies (America, Canada, Seychelles, Australia, New Zealand, Egypt and Hong Kong), I have very mixed emotions with them. Seychelles, I can't stand the girl for some reason, most likely for her sloppiness (Big Brother had her over once and let's just say I almost blew my own cover to get her to stop making a mess in the kitchen. IT TOOK THREE BLOODY HOURS TO CLEAN JUST ONE COUNTERTOP!). Canada was a quiet fellow who and was pleasant company along with Hong Kong and Egypt. I had no issues with those fellow and we all still gather for a cup of tea, lunch, and a light chat every now and then. Australia was probably the most fun colony I hung around though Big Brother did get panicky whenever I was away with Australia for extended periods of time. New Zealand is just New Zealand, sure his sheep are really soft and fluffy but nothing about him is rather…interesting to me.

America was Big Brother's favorite, thinking back, I had been quite jealous of America as a child. He had all of Big Brother's praise and attention and he was all my Big Brother could talk about for a while so it annoyed me greatly, that was until I could see the beginnings of a falling out. I tried to warn him about this, hell, I thought the King and everybody else was a bit bonkers but got grounded several times for saying as such. But what's done is done and I'm glad Big Brother and America are back on good terms. Though I usually go to America's birthday parties in place of Big Brother as he still can't take it all too well and gets drunk to his stupor and for that, I am grateful Japan and Tokyo taught me how to knock him unconscious, I hate seeing him in such a state.

Clothing choices have always been an amusing matter for the two of us, especially during his punk days. Now that I think about it…he still dresses in his punk clothes (-sigh-) but at least it isn't as bad as during the days of anarchy. I remember when he had his hair streaked acid green and all those piercings (-shudders-) there are some things that I could have lived without knowing you could get pierced. He's tried to convince me to get an industrial, tongue piercing, naval piercing, eyebrow piercing and lip piercing before but I just opted for the normal ear piercing, much to his disappoint during those days.

The different time periods have also done a great number on him, especially the Renaissance. No amount of mind soap could EVER erase those memories of men (including Big Brother) in tights, though Big Brother did know how to make suits of armor fashionable I guess. But I do admit he was much happier during Elizabeth's time. I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday she claimed to be married to be Big Brother. Oh that was an interesting day! I asked Big Brother why he hadn't invited me to see the wedding and the look on his face was just smashing! He loved Elizabeth like France loved Jeanne d'Arc and Paris and I became best friends, him lending me an ear when Big Brother was being too mushy (and believe me, it was so lovey-dovey that I wondered if Big Brother was actually France in disguise).

England or Britain, on one hand I can tell you exactly how many times I have addressed him as such. Big Brother was almost always Big Brother to me. There to comfort me when I got too scared of his magic and there whenever I just need a hug. Though I admit, having him as Big Brother was definitely far from easy but I would never think of having someone different as my brother.

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**Alright, it's been around 2 years since my last fanfiction so I might be a tad bit rusty at this. Constructive criticisms are welcomed but flames wil be used to roast marshmallows. I must thank the fellows at a Hetalia RP chatroom for finally getting rid of my writer's block (especially all the Englands and Miss Ireland!) So if you have anything to say, please comment below ^-^**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the countries mentioned. I do, however, own the OC's that are being used. **

**Oh and also, I sincerely apologize if I have by anyway insulted any British people in the writing of this. Forgive me, I'm Asian. **

* * *

Arthur Kirkland, also known England or Great Britain but not limited to Jerkland, Artie, or the United Kingdom, was seated at his desk, finishing up the paperwork. It had been a long day with very minimal contact with anyone. He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in the padded office chair. His joints creaked and muscles screamed as he had been hunched over his desk for several hours.

"Bloody hell," he groans before placing his head in his hands and taking a deep breath, "How long have I been here?"

Arthur turned his attention to an old grandfather clock that sat near the doorway. The old golden pendulum swung back and forth as it had for the past 150 years, never changing its pace. _'Ah, so it's been that long already?'_ he thought as a look of surprise crossed his face, _'She must be quite worried, or most likely bored, right about now.'_

Arthur got up from his desk, slowly as not to cramp up from being stuck in one position for several hours. He made his way across the white carpet and opened the heavy door of his home office before carefully peeking his head outside. Arthur was expecting the loud blare of pop music or the sound of his little sister cursing one of her university professors, but what he was met with was an eerie silence. Confused, Arthur stepped outside his office and shut the door behind him, carefully listening for any sounds at all. The house was dead silent.

"That's off," he muttered before making his way down the near silent hallway to the home library and knocking on the door, "Rowena! Rowena, love, are you there?"

Silence was his only reply as annoyance began to settle in. Sure Rowena did have the tendency to get caught up in her studies as he did in his work and _did_ like to give him the silent treatment right back just to annoy him. He also had the tendency to be rather short with her when she gave him the silent treatment, but even those were rare. So now, Arthur was sure to show his younger sister exactly how annoying he found her "revenge". He took the knob into the hand and quickly thrust the door open.

"ROWENA WYNTER KIRKLAND! YOU BETTER STOP IT WITH-" Arthur quickly halted his shouting when he noticed that the library was empty, "She's not here?"

Immediately worry began to over take him as he began to bolt around the house. She wasn't in her room, nor the spell room, library (again), her home office, the sitting room, his room (she did like to hide in there), the closest, guest bedrooms, bathrooms, the kitchen, and even the kitchen cupboards! He practically turned his home upside down in attempt of finding the girl but there was no sign of Rowena, anywhere.

"My god," he muttered as the worry started to set in, "Where could she be? It's highly unlike her to just leave without telling me."

That was true, even if he was busy, Rowena would poke her head in and tell him that she would be going out. She would always alert him to if she was leaving the house. Something she had that grew into a habit from when she was younger. Though there were times he wouldn't hear her telling him because of how concentrated he was, she would leave him a note.

Arthur's emerald eyes then widened in realization, a note. While searching for her, he had completely forgotten to check for a note. From his position in the sitting room, he hurried up the staircase and towards his office. Arthur quickly began to search through the papers on his desk for a certain piece of stationary, a white sheet of a paper with a cobalt blue spade, about 3 centimeters in height and 2½ centimeters in width, in the top right hand corner. But as he searched, he found none. He did, however, find her mobile phone, a blue and black Hitachi Woo Ketai with a Union Jack flag charm dangling from it, a gift from Tokyo after the Japanese capital had run over Rowena's previous mobile during a joy ride with her (Rowena's) car. Arthur cursed upon finding the phone, meaning that he didn't have any method of contacting his younger sister.

Arthur sighed as he fell back into his seat and slumped on to his desk. This whole situation just bothered him. Rowena was out there, somewhere, without her mobile. She couldn't call him personally if she had gotten hurt or to just check in with him. Hurt. Arthur immediately sat up bolt straight at the sheer thought of it. _'Hurt? What if she's hurt? That would be terrible! Maybe that's why she hasn't come home yet. Yes. Maybe she's hurt.'_ Arthur then quickly shook his head and patted both his cheeks. _'Come now Arthur, do you think that little of her? You trained her yourself damn it! Rowena's not a defenseless little child anymore. She's probably just fine you miserable old chap.' _

Arthur grinned upon being able to psych himself out of panicking over something so small. Yes, his little sister was probably perfectly fine and on her way home via underground or bus. And besides, it wasn't as if it were warring times. She was most likely safe and uninjured...he hoped.

* * *

With Rowena

"Hey, Rowena, can you _please_ stop tapping your foot!" complains a certain brunette male.

"Oui, Mon Cherie," adds a second male with shoulder length blonde hair, "It's starting to get annoying. Ce qui a ce qu'il vous faut si nerveux (What has got you so nervous)?"

Rowena stop staring out the window of the restaurant's private dining room to face the group's two whiners. She huffed and tossed her white ponytail over her shoulder and narrowed her teal eyes at them.

"For one, I don't have my mobile with me," she hisses.

"It's called a _cell phone_," corrects the brunette.

"I don't bleeding care what _you_ call it you git!" Rowena then sighed before continuing, "And besides, Big Brother is probably worried where I am. You lot could have let me leave him a note at the very least! And speak English you bloody Frog!"

The Frenchman let out a heavy sigh upon hearing the exclamation, "After over 450 years Rowena, I believed zat you would at least know zat my name is not Frog, zat Mon nom est Damien."

"Like I care you Frog," counters Rowena, "As Big Brother says, "A Frog is always a Frog" and I intend to follow that advice."

"Hey," scolds a very muscular blonde, "Aufhören zu kämpfen wie die Kinder (Stop fighting like children)! Rowena, acknowledge that his name is Damien and Damien, don't try to start a fight here, Ordnung (alright)?"

"Fine," grumbles Rowena, "As you wish Hartwin."

"Oui," mutters Damien.

"Now rets arr make sure that everyone is here," said a Japanese teen in back, "this room is secure so no one that is not supposed to be here is not allowed to enter."

Rowena shot Damien and the brunette scathing looks before she took her seat in between them. This meeting had just been called out of nowhere so none of them were really prepared for this. But what really annoyed Rowena most was that they had decided it was taking place in her domain without her knowing. Though she did find out when Damien and Derek, the brunette, had basically kidnapped her from her and her Big Brother's garden. If there was one thing that she didn't like, it was not being in the know for such things.

"I wirr call order," said the Japanese teen, "same as arways I wirr carr your names and you wirr respond with your domain. I, Masato Honda, Tokyo is present. Pengfei Wang?"

"Beijing, here," replied a dark brunette male around his mid 20s.

"Hartwin Beirschmidt (Beilschmidt)?"

"Berlin, present," answered Hartwin.

"Daniel C. Jones?"

"Washington D.C and the hero is always here Tokyo!" shouted an exuberant blonde teen.

"Derek B. Jones?"

"New York, I'm here," answered Derek, much calmer than his younger brother.

"Erriot Wirriams (Elliot Williams)?"

"Ottawa and I'm totally here," shouted a blonde teenager just as loud as D.C.

"Irari (Ilari) Braginski?"

"Moscow, I am here~!" said a large silver haired boy cheerfully.

"Basirio (Basilio) Vargas?"

"Ciao, Milan is here ve~!" chimed a gleeful brown haired boy with his eyes closed.

"Brizio Vargas?"

"Rome, I'm here now hurry up!" spat an impatient brown haired boy but his hazel eyes were open.

"Damien Bonnefoy?"

"Bonjour Mon Cher, I, Paris is 'ere gracing you all with my gorgeous presence!" said Damien as he pulled made a red rose appear as if out of thin air.

"Rowena Kirkrand?"

"London present," answered Rowena briskly, "Now let's hurry up with this."

Not to London's surprise, the meeting was about the Olympics that she was hosting. For the three hours it was actually quite civilized and they could all speak without having to shout but around the fourth hour, things went downhill. D.C started shouting about how much of a hero he was and how he was someday going to be as big of a hero as his elder brother America. New York's efforts went to calming and hushing his younger sibling as he didn't want to cause a scene. Milan started pestering an already annoyed Rome for pasta, and Rome was already starting to reach the end of his rope. Berlin was attempting to restore order with Tokyo, both failing. Moscow was drinking vodka and laughing as he watched everything go downhill. Beijing had decided it was a good idea to bother London about her opening ceremony, or in other words, start bragging about how she, or anybody else, would ever be able to beat him. London was trying not to hit the Chinese capital out of annoyance for his bragging but Paris had decided to poke fun at the triple X's causing a fight to break out between the two of them.

London, to say least, really hated the timing of the meeting. Before Paris and New York had kidnapped her from her rest time, she had been trying to work out a few kinks that had occurred in the security concerning the games. She really wanted to ask her Big Brother for help but he had been swamped with paperwork for the past week so she really didn't want to bother him. But now, she was in a stinking fight with the cheesy surrender monkey's capital (though he had really started the fight by calling her the black sheep capital of Europe). So after beating Paris into submission, with few injuries to herself, she got up and left. What surprised her most was that the moon and stars were already out, the sun was still out when she had been kidnapped to the meeting.

"Oh dear," she murmurs, "Big Brother is not going to like this…."

Lucky for London, she was able to flag down a taxi and after giving the driver her address, they took off into the night. Sure the Kirkland home wasn't too far from where the meeting had occurred but even London wouldn't want to walk home in the dark. It wasn't that she didn't trust the police, they were top notch, but Big Brother would scold her for taking such a risk and that was the very last thing she ever wanted.

"Tough day miss?" asked the driver.

"Like you wouldn't believe, Mr. Knight," answers London, sighing as she leaned back into the seat as the rain started coming down.

The driver was one of her people, a new from the east side. All the other personifications knew who their people were, from their names down to their history. It was how they could connect to their people if they ever came in contact with them on a casual occasion. London had missed the surprised look on the driver's face as she stared out the window.

"How did you know my name?" he asked curiously, "I just started today."

"I, uh, heard about you from another driver," replies London as she snapped from her daze, "Besides, I know just about everyone in London."

She ignored the surprised look he had given her as they rode on past the buildings. It was a quiet ride for the most part, except for the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the taxi. When they pulled up to the front of the Kirkland home, she paid him and was about to get out when he stopped her.

"Out of curiosity, can I get your name?" he asked, "I feel as if I know you."

London let a small smirk settle on her face before it widened into a fully fledged smile.

"Rowena, Rowena Kirkland, pleasure to make your acquaintance," she says before leaving the taxi and running to the front door and entering the home.

London sighed as she removed her black converse as to not track dirt into the house. She quickly made her way up to her room and replaced them in her closet before hurrying back down the staircase, noticing that the kitchen light was still on. _'That's odd,'_ she thought, looking over to check a clock hanging on the wall, _'it's nearly midnight. I doubt that Big Brother is awake at this hour.'_ Cautiously, London made her way into the lit kitchen. Everything was spotless and clean as it usually was but what surprised her was the tea kettle on the stove. She had started to make her way towards it before a cough had interrupted her. London quickly turned around to see her Big Brother leaning up against the island in the center of the kitchen. London soon recovered from her shock as she saw the look of questioning and slight annoyance on his face, she was in trouble.

"London Rowena Wynter Kirkland," England pronounced smoothly, all seriousness in his voice like in his pirate days, "Where have you been?"

London flinched at the sound of her full name and cringed at every word following it. She was in trouble and by the sounds of it, _a lot_ of trouble.

"Uh…at a meeting," she answers meekly, her voice just barely audible.

She watched as Big Brother raised one of his large eyebrows in disbelief.

"Is that so?" he questions, "Then why didn't you inform me of such?"

London was terrified of her Big Brother at the moment. He was using his Pirate Captain's voice and his Pirate stare. They had scared her to tears immediately as a child and still scared her now but not as quickly. It was one of the fears that she had never been able to get over. So as to not look at the stare she diverted her attention to the floor.

"Because I didn't know that there was one," she says softly, "It was completely random Big Brother, honest! I didn't know of it until Paris and New York practically kidnapped me from the garden!" She could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes from the fear she felt, "I'm sorry Big Brother."

London kept her head down, not wanting to look up at her brother. She was scared of his face and was mentally and physically preparing for a long scathing lecture. She knew she had done wrong and she knew she was going to get punished for this.

But the scolding and lecture didn't happen.

London was surprised when she felt arms wrap tightly around her and her face being pressed into the green cotton of her Big Brother's sweater vest. She could feel Big Brother resting his chin resting on top of her head as he hugged her tightly.

"Shh…I'm not mad London," he whispered soothingly before pressing a kiss to her hair, "I was just worried London. This old house had been entirely too quiet for my liking and when I realized you were gone I panicked. You hadn't said anything to me, nor did you leave a note and your mobile was in my office."

"I'm sorry Big Brother," answered London quietly as the tears began to roll down her face.

"Shh…it's alright," murmurs England, "It's alright…."

* * *

London sat on the edge of her bed as she stared out the window to the silvery moon just starting to peek out from behind the rain clouds. After that day's events, her mind remained at a state of unease with all her thought just raced around. It had just been too hectic for her to put her mind at ease. So quietly, she crept from her bedroom and into the library. There she took a seat by the large window as she continued to stare out at the moon. The moon had always been able to calm her whenever she was just so frantic or stressed to sleep on her own, when Big Brother was away.

London sighed as she watched the stars and faeries twinkle and dance across the lawn and night sky. It was an enchanting arrangement that had never ceased to amaze her. The fey were just astounding, twinkling like tiny multi colored lights across the lawn whereas the stars performed their celestial ballet for all the world to see. She would have continued watching the duet if only there hadn't been a knocking at the door, bringing her out of her previous wonderment.

Standing at the library's entrance was England, in his night clothes, holding two steaming mugs of hot cocoa with a smile on his face. London blinked in confusion before he joined her on the couch and handed her one of the mugs. Out of habit with tea, she first sniffed it, allowing the scent of sweet chocolate and, was that, mint? The two scents intermingled, immediately overwhelming her senses with the aroma of wonderful chocolate and cooling mint. She smiled over at her elder brother before finally taking a sip. It was just as delicious as it smelled, creamy, rich, and warm.

"I figured you would be here," he said softly.

"Have I become that predictable?" she asked with a small smirk.

England could only smile and sip his own cocoa before randomly selecting a book from a nearby shelf. After doing such, both siblings leaned back into the soft velvet of the couch to gaze upon the bewitching dance of fey folk in the light of the moon to the twinkle of the stars as they finished off their sweet drinks. The dance soon concluded as their mugs ran dry, in which England had opened his novel and started reading aloud from it to her, just like old times.

Before she knew it, London found herself leaning on Big Brother's back going in and out of sleep as she listened to him read. Her mind was finally becoming more and more at ease with every word he read until she finally gave up the fight and let sleep take her. Big Brother always knew what to do to help her when she couldn't solve a problem herself. He might still scare her sometimes but in the end, he always there to comfort her. London smiled as she subconsciously snuggled into her Big Brother's back, to know that he would always be there for her, whether it be in person, in thought, or in spirit, was all that she needed to know that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

**Okay, this concludes "My Big Brother England" and yes, London (aka Rowena Kirkland) was the child telling the story in the first chapter. Now that I am going to be coming back to writing (and posting) more fanfiction, I'm going to make this clear. You might not see anymore of Rowena for she really isn't my main OC. But if you like her and wish to see her some more, do say so and I'll try to write up more. **

**All the French and German used was from Google translate, if it's wrong, then I apologize. **

**As always, constructive criticisms are very much welcomed and flames will be used in roasting marshmallows as I sing England's demon summoning song. Also if you have any comments or questions or suggestions, I am open minded and will be glad to answer them as well as make note of them. Oh and before I forget, the most important thing:**

**Thank you for reading. **


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